The Second Maiden's Tragedy
by Psycho Hippie Number Five
Summary: A spirit medium entrusted with the task of channeling the evilest of ghosts. Her sister, a spy for the American Embassy, determined to take her place to save the medium's life. Possible ChaseOC, JackOC. Soon to be resumed.
1. Prologue, Part 1

I'm not quite sure what compelled me to write this story (surfing this site, probably, and a recent escapade involoving a spirit in my grandpa's house), but it just sort of happened. I don't really remember this show, since it was just something to watch on Saturdays, so a beta and someone who can provide information would help. If anything seems weird or off (especially in the later parts of this story), let me know!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize.

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The research room was dark and quiet at the witching hour. There was the ever-present hum of electricity, the rows and rows of computer monitors, and the maze of wires along the carpeted floor. Casmira paused, gently shutting the door behind her. The only light was from the crack under the door and the barely visible green dot on the coffee maker in the corner. She paused, holding her breath, trying to pick out anyone hiding in the shadows or crouching under one of the desks. She proceeded a few steps further, checking for hazards with her bare feet. She cleared a path to the computer by the door, so should someone open it, they wouldn't see her. The swivel chair's back creaked as she slid into it and she went deathly still. There was no stirring outside. She let out a brief sigh of relief before turning on the CPU. It emitted a loud humming noise, causing the young agent to flinch. A little more listening and she decided she was lucky. Usually the place was crawling with feds. She logged into the database, faintly wondering what she would do about the record her account left.

Casmira stared at the display, debating. She usually didn't care about histories unless it had to do with an investigation, and hadn't been interested in her own, especially not since The Day. The Day - it was four years now, wasn't it? - was the name informally designated to the discovery of the wayward military experiments. The test subjects hadn't been randomly chosen, not from what she understood. She'd been picked for some reason, which made her the last person to see her parents. Both of her sisters had disappeared a long time ago, and she figured it wasn't a coincidence she'd been taken away, too.

She glanced around the room, ruffled her pink hair, and turned back to the violently bright glow of the monitor. After another moment's hesitation, she typed her name into the search engine: Mandala, Casmira. She scanned the information on the screen. No leads, no clues, nothing. She scrolled down to the relatives section and clicked on the name of her twin, Circe. Nothing she didn't know already. The result was always the same, whereabouts unknown. She picked out her younger sister and smirked in satisfaction.

Updates. She's come across an undercover agent of her DNA showed up on something that went through an American Embassy scanner or her name had come up. There was nothing suspicious, nothing that could help her piece together the family separation. Sure, she'd relocated an ocean away from either direction and this had been the first information Casmira had received in many long, trying months, but it didn't help. At least she knew Kismet was alive.

Casmira shut down the computer and sat in the darkness. Thinking past The Day was a struggle, even after the length of time that had passed. It was a life-changing event, after all. She didn't quite know how The Day came about and the information the engine brought up had been vague, adding to her frustration. Perhaps Kismet knew something she didn't? Cas had government clearance and a mission fund, after all. A little side escapade wouldn't hurt. Besides, maybe the feds would like any extra information that came up.

She snuck back to her room and stood in the middle of it, contemplating. Her gaze wandered to the top drawer of her dresser, which held all of her government information. She'd just call it a vacation.


	2. Prologue, Part 2

Well, okay. This story is written in two parts, at least in the beginning. One for Casmira and on for Kismet. This is Kismet's. Since they were seperated at an early age, Kismet knows nothing about Casmira. Casmira only knows about Kismet since she has access to that kind of thing. There's some stuff you should pay attention to, so pay attention to it. All of it. Stuff has a habit of reappearing when I write.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize.

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_A white room, nothing more. A large light was buzzing in the ceiling. A door that could only be opened from the outside stood tall and intimidating. Kismet cringed. The place screamed mental hospital. She turned, examining the room once more. The first thought that came to mind was that it was filthy. The stains on the walls - was that blood? - spread in all directions. There was mold in one corner and an untraceable dripping noise. Her eyes finally settled on a girl kneeling in the back of the room, hands folded over her heart and pink hair falling in her face. She had a cut on her left temple. "Hello?" Kismet asked slowly. No response. "Can you hear me?" The girl raised her head, eyes still closed. "Who are you?" She looked at Kismet. Her right eye was a steady silver color but her left kept changing._

_"I'm Billy...I'm Mike...I'm Lucy...I'm Agent Hart." There was a pause. Her left eye now matched her right. "I'm Casmira. Are you interested in sampling the 41 flavors of Hell?" Casmira smiled, head tilting to one side. Kismet backed up until she hit a wall._

_"What do you mean, 41 flavors of Hell?" Kismet demanded. "What are you going to do?"_

_Casmira sighed, "Not me. The people outside." Her head tilted to one side, quizzically this time. "Don't you know? We've been kidnapped, Kismet."_

_"How do you know my name?"_

_Another smile. "We're sisters, silly." The door opened and her face fell. A man in a military uniform grabbed Kismet's arm and dragged her out. "Good luck." The door closed with a heavy thud._

_"No, wait, please!" That classic moment of panic, followed by the usual ignorance. 41 flavors of Hell, huh? Yum._

Kismet blinked a few times and pushed herself into a sitting position. She was still alone in the training room - which had recently become designated the channeling room - and the eerie quiet was making her paranoid. She half expected to hear dripping and a hollow, possessed voice. She'd failed to channel any useful spirits, or any spirits at all. Unless...Casmira was a spirit? She'd gone bad after going through the 41 flavors of Hell, whatever those were? Or she'd been bad all along? Were they really related or was that just a figment or her imagination?

Kismet gripped her head in confusion and let out an agonized sigh. Up until now it was simple. Her only task had been to channel bad spirits to increase her psychic power. Being able to control evil spirits was something to boast about. The only thing was that she'd been unsuccessful in doing so. Encountering Casmira had been the closest thing in months, even if she wasn't quite sure what had happened.

She picked herself up off the ground and exited the room. She squinted at the difference in light as she leaned against the door with crossed arms. She'd have to try contacting that girl. Kismet glanced up as Chase approached, face emotionless as usual. "I didn't get anything," she informed him with a sigh. "At least, I think. Someone might have been trying to contact me. Or...I was dreaming." She smiled sheepishly before returning to her mildly depressed state. "I'm not really sure, I...." She trailed off. It wasn't Chase she was talking to anymore. It was Casmira. Kismet squeaked and tried to back up.

"What?" he asked, looking the tiniest bit concerned.

"I saw an evil ghost!" she managed.

_Wasn't that the point?_ Chase wondered briefly.

"No-wait-I mean!" Kismet began, flustered and holding her hands up as if to say stop. "I don't know if she's a ghost! Or evil! But--" She struggled for words again. "She's a creepy goth kid!" That only brought to mind Jack crossdressing. "No-ah--" Kismet lowered her head and dropped to his feet. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he pointed out with a sigh.

"But I'm the one completely at fault here."

"You're in training. Channeling evil spirits should be impossible."

A pause. "I'm sorry for making empty promises!"

Chase twitched and took a step back. "What?"

"I said I could do it! I'm sorry for bothering you!!"

_She's been possessed by something weird,_ he reasoned. "No, really, you don't have to keep apologizing."

Kismet stood slowly. "Right." She began to walk away. "More training!" she declared, pumping her fist in the air. "Now let's vamanos!"


	3. Chapter 1, Part 1

Okay, back to Cas. The man Kismet gets the obsessive apologizing from is in this chapter. I think that's all.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing you recognize.

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Casmira frowned and slouched further against the bench she and her luggage were occupying. So far, the search had been a total disaster. She's set out on Sunday and three days had passed. Without an exact location, she'd been left wandering. She sighed dramatically and turned to the portable fish tank next to her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fish," she told the white betta inside. "But...I think we've gotten lost for real this time." Mr. Fish didn't respond, but rather swam around frantically in an attempt to figure out why the world outside his tank was different. Casmira laid a fist over her heart. "What a terrible commotion a missing government agent will cause! And you, my dear Mr. Fish, are gone, so they think I've run away!" She slid off the park bench and onto the sidewalk, kneeling with her arms thrown to the sky. "And I have run away! To pursue the secrets that have so long eluded me! WHY?!" A passing elderly woman hurried by. A couple turned the other way. Casmira collapsed forward, groveling at the feet of some unknown deity. "I will find you, dear sister, if it's the last thing I do!"

"Mystic Cassandra?" Casmira looked up to see an old man wearing a Chinese hat, hands clasped together with a spacey look on his face. "Mystic Cassandra, is that you? You said...you would return...."

"I'm sorry?" Casmira asked, adjusting the combo computer screen/earpiece that had gotten knocked askew in the midst of her drama. "Do I know you from someplace?"

The old man blinked a few times, looking more out of it. "Oh, excuse me, Miss. I thought you were someone else." He smoothed the front of his shirt with a goofy smile. "You look a lot like a woman I met once."

"Mystic Cassandra? Oh, I know, I've been told!" Casmira chattered happily. "Mom said we have the same hair...or something." She smiled sheepishly before her face fell. "Are you okay?"

It was the man's turn to drop and grovel. "Oh, I'm sorry for my ignorance! Please excuse me, Miss, for I didn't realize you were a relative of Mystic Kismeeeettttt!"

Casmira pricked up. "What?! What?! What?! WHAT?! Kismet, you say?!" She turned back to the bench with a twirl of her skirt. "Do you hear that, Mr. Fish? We are saved!" She grabbed the old man's hands and knelt in front of him. "Where can we find her?"

"I can't say," the man said as he looked away. "I could tell you but the man she's living with would not be happppyyyy!"

She shook his shoulders. "She's living with a man?!!

"I'm sorry! I know the idea sounds terrible, but he's an important man! He wouldn't do anything to Mystic Kismeeettt!"

"So, this is a total bomb," she murmured. "I'm not that good of a fed and it's not like I can read his mind." She stood and moved back to the bench. "Well, Mr. Fish--"

The man was still going on. "But I guess as a relative you have a right to know! And as a descendant of Mystic Cassandra, I suspect he will be interested in yooouuu!" He stood, smoothed his shirt, and adopted his spacey demeanor. "Would you like to go to the channeling dojo?" he asked, leaving Casmira confused at his sudden change in mood.

The trek to the dojo took another two hours, consisting of several suspension bridges that gradually led them to what seemed the middle of nowhere. Casmira stared up at the Main Gate, panting and exhausted. She hadn't moved this much since the FBI training course. "Is this it?" she asked, struggling to keep her grip on the handle of Mr. Fish's tank. "There isn't another bridge behind here, is there?" The old man chuckled.

"Come, to the Main Hall," he said shortly, leading her through the gate and up to the dojo. They were soon settled at opposite ends of a small table, seated on cushions. "Now, I believe introductions are in order. I am Damian. I assist with the more vigorous parts of an acolyte's training."

"I am Casmira, twenty-fourth generation in the Manda Medium Line." She paused. "This dojo...it's quite influenced by my Line, isn't it?"

Damian nodded. "Yes. They say this dojo was built specifically for the training of the mediums from that Line. However, Mystic Kismet is the only one training at the moment. We will be opening to other mediums soon. Mystic Elvira disappeared some time ago."

"Yes. I believe I was the last to see her. I have received signs that she has passed from this world into the next. The first to 'leave', to put it simply, was Kismet. Then my twin, Circe. Four years ago, it was me. I was the only one who made it back in relatively the same spot."

He changed the subject, noticing her discomfort. "There is a statue of Mystic Cassandra in the courtyard, along with the replica of her Shichishito."

"Replica?"

"We lost track of the original." He sighed and shook his head. "Mediums are quite peculiar."

Casmira thought of herself, a government agent obsessed with her pet fish. "Yes. Mystic Kismet...I would like to see her."

"Damian stood. "Very well. I shall take you to her."

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Info-

_Names_

Circe- a beautiful enchnatress from Homer's _The Odessy_

Casmira- a mystic from Voltaire's _Candide_

Kismet- Arabic, "fate" or "destiny"

Elvira- "Mistress of the Dark"

Cassandra- a Trojan prophetess called Daughter of Hecate. Casmira is said to resemble her.

Damian- a traditional name for a male witch

Mandala- a sacred diagram or meditation symbol. Originally "Manda".

_Other_

Manda Medium Line- Mediums descended from Mystic Cassandra Manda. Name means "Lord of the Occult"


	4. 2013 news

**WELL SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT IT'S 2013 AND I KNOW I'M FOOLING YOU ALL BY INCLUDING THIS NOTE BUT I INTEND TO ONE DAY SIT DOWN AND REVIEW THE THINGSES THAT MY FICS ARE BASED ON AND LOCK MYSELF IN A ROOM WITH THEM AND TRY TO GET BACK INTO THEM.**

At the moment, I feel promise for Art and Kiss, especially since the new TCM (if I ever get my butt to the theatre) will probably get me in to mood.


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